


Diplomatic Love

by FrozenPanther



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Falling In Love, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-23 11:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenPanther/pseuds/FrozenPanther
Summary: On the eve of a meeting between Dale, Erebor and Mirkwood, Bard's mind should be on the meeting ahead, but instead he finds himself distracted by thoughts of the Elvenking.Months ago a secret relationship developed between them. Is it love? Bard doesn't know. What he does know is he has a desire to see Thranduil, feel his touch, but he's not going to let that get in the way of his duties. At least he hopes not.





	Diplomatic Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spoke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoke/gifts).



Bard slowed his horse as they approached the giant doors to Thranduil's palace. A shiver went through him, one he hoped wasn't noticed by the others with him, including his own children. Because it would be easy to think the shiver was largely due to intimidation of the size and wealth of the elven kingdom, after all their own Kingdom of Dale was only a few years old which was pale in comparison to the elves. But there was more to it than that. It mostly reflected anticipation of what was likely to come, an act that he was reluctant to admit he was looking forward too.

But that was later, he had other important matters to deal with first. His own desires would have to wait until later. He couldn't lose focus. He had formal duties to get through first.

And he might as well get it over with.

Nudging his horse forward he crossed the bridge, resisting the urge to stare at the doors as he passed through them. At one point in time, he would have been mesmerized by the beauty of the elven architect, still was actually, but he had to remember his position, even if it still felt unfamiliar to him; the King of Dale. 

He never pictured himself as king, even when he stood alongside one riding into war against another. But after the war when his people slowly began to pick up their lives, rebuilt Dale as their new home, that they realized they needed, wanted, a king and Bard (while reluctantly) was the only one suited for the job. So he did what he had to do for his people. Their kingdom was rebuilt, not quite at the glory it was before Smaug attacked, but they were on their way and Bard was confident that their future would be bright. 

Although it would not be an easy path. One thing that they were reliant on was the alliance between themselves, the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain and the Elves of Mirkwood.

Not surprisingly it was a fragile alliance. The dwarves and the elves hate for each other went back for more years then Bard could even imagine. Often Bard felt like a middleman, trying to keep peace, make them see reason, try to come to a compromise. It was exhausting at times, but he put up with it, because he could feel it, they all could; a growing darkness. Something was coming, and they needed to be prepared.

Which was why they had their meetings, rotating between their kingdoms, several of them a year to make sure they were all in agreement and all up to date on the current situation. At the moment it was Thranduil's turn to host. Hopefully they would be able to get through it without a fight.

Pulling his horse to a stop, Bard dismounted and handed the reins to an elven servant. He saw no goats yet, which didn't surprise him, Dain would wait until the last minute to arrive. While the actual meeting wasn't until the next day, that night there would be banquet to celebrate the alliance. It was a moment that Dain would not miss. He wouldn't pass up an opportunity to eat and drink, especially if he could find a way to get under Thranduil's skin. 

But that was later, at the moment Bard had more immediate matters to deal with. Namely the Elvenking. A surge of emotions rippling through Bard at the mere thought of Thranduil. He wanted to see him, wanted those piercing blue eyes upon him, even though it wouldn't be until later when they would be able to privately get together.

And based off past experiences he knew Thranduil would want to see him as well. Which was why Bard was confused when he was led not to Thranduil's throne, or his private chambers but instead was taken to the guest chambers where Bard would be spending the night.

"Where is Thranduil?" he asked his guide, an elven servant he didn't recognize. Annoyance seeped into his voice despite his best efforts to keep it even. It wasn't the elf's fault, he needed to remember that, whatever was going on was Thranduil's doing.

"His Highness is dealing with other matters at the moment," the young elf replied with a bow. "He offers his regret and apologies."

There was a beauty to all elves, the one before Bard was no different, but there was only one who captured Bard's attention in a way no one had since his wife died. Being denied what he wanted didn't make him happy, even if it was only going to be a simple greeting between them, but there was no reason to take that out on the young elf. "Go."

With another bow the elf left the room, leaving Bard alone with his thoughts. He should go check on his children, he knew that, make sure they were settled into their own rooms, but whether he wanted to admit it or not they were growing older, more independent. They needed their space. It wouldn't surprise Bard if they already had gone off exploring the various caverns that were part of the palace. It was okay, he reminded himself, he knew they weren't in any danger within Thranduil's walls. Things were a far cry from when they were living in Lake-town when they were constantly being spied upon, dangers lurking around every corner. Life was simpler then, but he didn't miss it.

The others of his company would also currently be settling in and therefore he didn't want to disturb them. They too were still getting use to their current roles. It wasn't that long ago when they were simple merchants or ordinary folk just trying to survive in a corrupt town. Now they were the ones responsible for helping to run an entire kingdom with the bulk of the responsibilities falling on Bard's shoulders. At times it was a huge weight, but it was worth it to see the Kingdom of Dale be restored. 

And he had good teachers.

Dain, for all his rude and brashness, was actually a good king. In the beginning he would frequently ride over from Erebor and offer advice, as well as extending an open invention for Bard to visit anytime. This was all in spite of the fact he had his own kingdom to rebuild and the fact they had started as enemies, which neither one held against the other. Bard was always grateful for his aid. 

And then there was Thranduil… 

An image came to Bard's mind, long fingers sliding across his bare chest before moving downwards, a playful smile on the Elvenking's lips, knowing he was tormenting Bard and enjoying it. But it was a good torment. One that Bard wanted more of and was looking forward to it.

No.

Bard pushed thoughts of Thranduil out of his mind. While there was still a few hours until the banquet he couldn't afford to get distracted. His people needed him, needed to be the king that he was. Not someone caught up in the lust for another. No matter how good and happy Thranduil made him felt.

He moved through the chamber, heading to an adjoining room, not surprised when he found a pool of water built into the floor. In his previous visits to the elven palace he had already become accustomed to such pools, heated from a natural source. Thranduil himself had a large one in his private chambers, one that got great use last time. He could practically feel it, the lightness of the Elvenking's body against his own as droplets of water was licked from his neck.

No. He was not going to allow himself to get distracted by such thoughts. He needed to focus.

His hands went to the clasps of his coat. Even though he was king he couldn't yet give up the old thing that had served him well over the years. Sigrid often tried to make him get rid of it, encouraged him to wear something more fitting of his title, but there was always the what-if question in the back of his mind. So quickly things could be lost in an instant. It happened with the original Dale, it happened with Lake-town. If something were to happen again, he'd need his old, warm coat. 

It wasn't just that though. It was also a reminder of where he came from, so he didn't forget that he was once a simple bargeman who transported empty barrels. It was something he didn't want his children to forget either. It would do them no good to forget their humble beginnings. One day they would be better rulers because of it.

But practical clothes would not serve a purpose that night. He was to be paraded in front of hundreds along with Dain and Thranduil. If he or Dain were hosting, he might have gotten away with it but Thranduil liked putting on a show so for at least a few hours he would have to play the role of a proper king.

Undressing, he stood nude before the pool of water. The warm water was calling him. It was a luxury he did have to admit he liked. He spent a lot of years in Lake-town taking cold baths because that was the only option. 

Gingerly he stepped into the water. The steps down into it could be slippery and he didn't need to be seen as a king who broke his leg getting into a damn bath. At least Dain would get a good laugh out of it, but Bard didn't want to even think about how Thranduil would react.

Fortunately he made it in without breaking anything and as he sat down the water came up to his chest. A content sigh escaped him as he closed his eyes. It was nice, not as nice as the pool in Thranduil's chambers, that one was larger and more luxurious, but he had no complaints. In fact he felt relaxed for the first time since entering the palace. It was like the water was washing away all his worries and tension.

Sliding lower, Bard held his breath as he slipped his head under the water. It felt good, the water surrounding him. He stayed like that until he could take no more, his lungs begging for air. Popping his head free, he leaned back, resting against the stone siding, his eyes falling close once again as he simply relaxed.

Probably the best part was how quiet it was. Quietness was a rarity. In Lake-town there were always noises but he also had the peacefulness of his boat when he wanted to escape. Dale wasn't as loud as Lake-town but there was always something that needed to be done. There were always people bothering him, wanting him to make decisions, so much to do.

But it was worth it. Although there were times when he wanted to dash away and leave someone else in charge for a few hours. Return to his boat, or go for a ride on his horse. 

But he didn't necessary want to be alone during that period. Spending time with his children was always fun, even if they were getting to the point where they wanted to do their own thing. But they weren't the only ones he wanted to spend his free time with.

An image of Thranduil came to his mind, looming over him, their mouths close but not quite touching, soft blond hair falling against his skin. He liked Thranduil's hair, liked touching it, playing with it. He could practically feel the softness sliding between his fingers.

Unlike before he didn't immediately push the thoughts away. There was time, he told himself. In the safety of the pool the banquet seemed like it was so far away.

He slid the palm of his hand along his inner thigh. It wasn't as soft as Thranduil's hand but the water made him easier to think that it belonged to the Elvenking. He moved it higher, sliding it up his body and across his chest before letting his hand fall away in disappointment. No matter how easily it was to imagine Thranduil's presence, it wasn't the same. His desire would have to wait until later.

Climbing out of the pool, Bard headed back into the other room to find that his travelling cases had been dropped off. It wasn't a surprise he didn't hear anyone. Elves were quiet with their movements, when they wanted to be at least. Bard smirked, there were times when Thranduil wasn't so quiet. 

Opening one of the cases, Bard began pulling out clothing. They weren't as horrible as they could have been, no weird fabrics or styles. They were actually similar to his everyday clothes, just newer, nicer. He didn't hate them, it just seemed silly at times to wear them when his normal clothes were still perfectly fine. But he was still a king and sometimes he had to do what was expected of him. Especially when it came to public banquets where he was going to be on display.

Very easily he could have demanded someone help him dress. As a king, it was his right. He had present more than once watching Thranduil stand tall and proud as servants dressed him. Those were innocent times, during the war or visits where Thranduil demanded Bard's presence in his private chamber. Their relationship was very much a secret. Being dressed however wasn't Bard's style. He made it through his entire life since he was an infant dressing himself and he saw no reason to stop just because he was now a king.

He wasn't born into royalty the way other kings were.

As he was finishing up there was a knock at his door. It was a servant informing him that the King Under the Mountain had arrived. Dain wasn't quite as late as he normally was, perhaps it was good sign that everything would go smoothly. Bard doubted it, but it did mean it was time for things to get started.

* * *

The banquet for the most part had been a success. The food and wine was excellent, Thranduil spared no expense. The entertainment was also exceptional, elven singers with their sweet melodies, although it did seem to bore Dain. Whether he was faking it not, Bard didn't know.

It really didn't come as a surprise to Bard that the banquet would be so exquisite. He knew Thranduil would go all out. Their last get together had been at the Lonely Mountain and it had been the talk for weeks afterwards since Dain decided to show off how far they had come since regaining their homeland. There was no way Thranduil would let himself be defeated by Dain when it came throwing a party. 

Secretly however Bard still thought Dain's food had been better. The rich meat from freshly hunted game that the dwarves had served had been delicious. Not that he would let Thranduil know that. Especially not when the Elvenking was seated right next to him.

Bard actually couldn't decide if it was a good thing or bad thing that Thranduil was next to him. The small slight touches to his hand and thigh throughout the night under the long table that they were seated at had certainly felt nice but at the same time it was hard not reacting to it, keeping a neutral face throughout the meal. Fortunately he didn't think anyone noticed. Not even Dain, which was the most relief. Despite the fact that Dain would only crack a joke and go back to not caring Bard really didn't want him knowing the things that went on between him and Thranduil behind closed doors.

The chair next on Thranduil's other side along the long table was empty. It had been where Dain had been seated for the meal; the three kings united together, a symbolism of their alliance. But Dain had already left to join the other dwarves, gone before even the empty plates were taken away. Bard eyed them across the room, laughing and drinking, their mugs raised high as they joyfully celebrated. Bard didn't care what the dwarves did, Dain had proven himself to be a reliable ally. He did care however that Bain was with them. Bain was too young to be partying with dwarves, if he was 100 it would be too young to keep up with the dwarves. But while Bard silently bristled, he couldn't make a scene about it. He didn't want to offend Dain, especially since Dain was, for the most part, behaving himself. All he could do was wait and talk to Bain about it later.

"Sons are determined to go against their father's wishes." Thranduil's voice took Bard by surprise. Despite the playful touches throughout the night, the Elvenking had said very little to him and when he had it merely professional in nature.

"I take it Legolas still hasn't returned." He knew the story, or at least the part that Thranduil had offered to share with him; that his son was off travelling. Bard however couldn't help but think there was more to the tale, but it wasn't his place to pry.

"Reports say he is well."

Bard's gaze shifted to Sigrid and Tilda. They were with a group of other young women, made up of dwarves, elves and human women. They were both growing into fine young woman." At least daughters can be counted on." 

At that moment Tilda picked up a cup and angrily threw it at a nearby group of boys a little older than her, which fortunately didn't actually hit anyone, and Bard resisted the urge to bury his face into the palm of his hand. "At least most of the time daughters can be counted on." Tilda was another one he would have to speak to later, remind her of her role.

"Her aim was off." Lifting a cup to his lips, Thranduil took a sip of wine. "You should train her better."

It was a response that Bard didn't expect and he hid a smile as he rethought about his decision to scold Tilda later. He was sure the boys had said something to deserve it, Tilda wasn't one who normally caused trouble unless provoked. There was also the fact that no one seemed bothered by the incident. Around them the celebration was carrying on like normal. If anyone noticed they didn't care. "I'll consider it." 

Traditionally women weren't one for fighting. That had changed during the battle to protect all of their lives against the invading orcs when they didn't have enough bodies to defend the young and old who couldn't fight. Although he wasn't crazy about training Tilda for it.

He however knew that the captain of Thranduil's guard was female and was a fierce warrior. Although he didn't see the red-headed elf among the crowd, which wasn't unusual. Whenever Bard did see her at these types of events she always had a sad expression on her face whenever she was in the company of the dwarves. It was a look of lost that he knew all too well. Bard glanced at Thranduil who was drinking more wine. But like with him, her feeling of lost would eventually go away and her heart would be able to open up again.

"Must we stay here much longer?" he asked, growing impatient, keeping his voice low so that only Thranduil could hear. "Let the people have their fun without their kings watching over them."

"An interesting proposal." His voice calm, even, which wasn't a surprise. Thranduil had thousands of years of practice to maintain his image. 

"And one you haven't rejected." 

A smile, that in reality was more like a smirk, played at Thranduil's lips. "I suppose I can grant a private meeting." Private meetings was how they got away with their relationship being unknown for so long. "After all these visits are supposed to increase the closeness between our two kingdoms." 

"It would be the polite thing to do." 

Thranduil left first, not even glancing back at Bard who ignored his exit. His eyes remained on the floor before him, wondering how he got into such a situation, but at the same time, not minding one bit. Was it love? He wasn't sure, but what he did know is that while he craved Thranduil's touch, he also cared a great deal for the Elvenking. 

It was a few minutes before an elven servant came to his side with a message that Thranduil wanted to privately see him. It was done that way on purpose, for those keeping a watchful eye, two kings having an informal, private meeting together was nothing abnormal. It kept them safe, their own private secret and no one had caught them yet. 

There were times however when Bard wanted to come clean. No one would blame him for falling for such beauty. There was no elf, male or female, that came close to Thranduil's elegance. He had an allure that was irresistible, many suitors over the years had tried to unsuccessfully woo him. Bard just happened to be the one who had the affection returned. At the time it was a surprise. He didn't know what he was to the Elvenking, a warm body or something more, but whatever it was, he was grateful.

The servant led the way, Bard pretending he hadn't already memorized the route from his previous visits. Anticipation surge through his body, soon he would have what he had been wanting all day. Earlier he had to force it away, not think about it, not let it distract him when there were still other things to be done, but now the only thing that remained was a desire for pleasure. Both his own and Thranduil's. 

When they finally reached Thranduil's private chambers, the servant announced Bard's arrival before disappearing from sight, leaving the two kings alone. Standing by the closed door, Bard stared across the room at Thranduil who was seated on a chair, long legs crossed in front of him, arms draped over the arms of the chair, a wine cup being held loosely in one hand.

"Do you expect a show?" Bard asked, not being serious at all.

"That would be nice."

It was hard to say if Thranduil was being serious or not. "Alas, my dancing days are behind me."

"Pity," Thranduil replied as he stood, his long legs not going unnoticed by Bard. He really did like those legs, the way they would feel as Thranduil straddled him or wrapped them around his body. But it was also nice to simply lay next to Thranduil, admire his legs, slide a hand over them, enjoying the touch. 

With his long stride Thranduil crossed the room in no time, a hand going to Bard's chest, pressing him backwards until he was pinned against the wall. It was exactly what Bard wanted, what he waited for all day. Grabbing Thranduil's face Bard pulled him into a hard, heated kiss. 

Passion flowed between them. They both wanted it, a longing desire for pleasure, to be with the person they wanted the most.

As the kiss intensified, Bard dragged his hands down to Thranduil's neck, the tips of his fingers coming into contact with silky hair. He had dreamed about Thranduil's hair earlier in the bath and it was so much better to be able to actually touch it, let it slide through his fingers. It was impossibly soft.

The kiss broke and Bard found himself being dragged towards the bed, firm tugs on his wrists from Thranduil. He didn't mind. It was something that he also wanted. To be with Thranduil always felt like a dream. The first time they laid together Bard was almost convinced it was a dream. In this same room, drunk on wine, no intention on doing anything except talk, until Thranduil began kissing him and one thing led to another. The next morning there was no regret on Bard's part. Instead he wanted more, which Thranduil was willing to give.

He was pressed down onto the bed, Thranduil quickly covering his body with his own, his hands fisting the shirt that Bard wore, tugging at it. If he ripped it Bard wasn't going to complain, it wasn't like he didn't bring other shirts with him and at the moment both of their clothing was really getting in the way.

Bard's own hands went to Thranduil's ears, lightly touching them, loving the way he shivered, momentary distracted to do anything else. Bard knew from past experiences that Thranduil's ears were sensitive, a secret pleasure point, where when touched he could do whatever he wanted to the Elvenking. 

And at the moment he just wanted Thranduil's lips upon his.

He pulled Thranduil down into another kiss; tender but there was also a hint of desperation to it. He badly wanted Thranduil and could sense the Elvenking felt the same way. There was a longing of passion and desire that was not going to easily go away. He was going to enjoy the rest of the night, they both were.

* * *

When Bard woke he wasn't sure how much time had passed. He suspected that he wasn't out to long since the room was dark. But that wasn't important, his main attention was drawn to Thranduil who was sitting up in bed, staring down at him.

"I should soon leave," Bard said, unsure of what else to say. The passion between them was always intense, but then afterwards… it wasn't uncommon for things to feel weird, neither one of them knowing what he really wanted.

"Stay."

His voice was soft, taking Bard by surprise. And as Bard took a look at him, he saw that the mask Thranduil always wore, the one he used as a means of protecting himself was broken. He had never seen him look so honest, vulnerable. It was something he doubted many saw and emotions flowed through him.

The question from earlier re-entered Bard's mind. Was this love? Before he wasn't sure, but now he had his answer. It was, he decided and it was mutual, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that Thranduil didn't return his feeling. And currently there was nowhere else he would rather be than in Thranduil's bed.

With a nod of his head, Bard settled back down. They would deal with whatever there was to come in the morning. Dain would no doubt tease them, regardless of whether he thought there was something between them or not. But if they had too they could find some excuse for why Bard spent the night in Thranduil's chambers. Too much wine. That was always a good excuse. It wasn't like dwarves didn't pass out due to too much alcohol.

In the meantime though, Bard was going to enjoy Thranduil's company. Morning could wait, along with any excuses they might have to make. With a sleepy smile on his face, he reached towards Thranduil, letting the blond hair run through his fingers once more, a feeling of contentment going through him.

It was definitely love.


End file.
